


the dead don't lie (but i know you're alive)

by ur_the_puppy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 13daysofclexa, Alternate Universe, Clextober 2019, Day 8: Vampires/Werewolves, F/F, Fluff, One Shot, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 08:43:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21158831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ur_the_puppy/pseuds/ur_the_puppy
Summary: “I think I just need a moment alone,” Clarke said, and the mourner soon nodded in understanding, offered a pitiful smile and stepped away. Clarke clenched her fists behind her back.“Of course, you take all the time you need, dear.”Clarke just shot her a watery smile back and waited until she was left alone with the coffin of her dead wife. She stood there, in the cold, candlelit hall, eyes stuck on the doors as all the mourners filed out.The second the door shut and she was alone Clarke threw her head back with a relieved sigh. “Oh thank the fucking gods,” she breathed, and promptly gave a rough kick to the coffin in front of her. “Are you done playing your death?”The coffin moved.





	the dead don't lie (but i know you're alive)

**Author's Note:**

> a small oneshot for clextober. if all goes to plan ill also be doing something for the haunted houses day too. as usual, its only me that goes over this so all mistakes are proudly mine.  
hope you enjoy :)

This was not how Clarke had intended spending the weekend.

Though, admittedly, that would be a normal reaction to a situation such as this.

It had been an annoyance in convincing everyone that she couldn’t have the funeral take place in the local church. Clarke hadn’t wanted a funeral full stop, but Lexa just had to die in the most dramatic fashion where _everyone_ could see so there really was little to she could do to fend off the efforts of fate.

The priest had been confused and mildly affronted at her refusal to have her buried into holy soil. It had taken a truly infuriating amount of negation from Clarke going from there was no way she was having a funeral to _fine_ but it absolutely cannot take place on consecrated ground.

A surprising number of the townspeople had turned up. Though perhaps that was not so shocking. Clarke quite enjoyed it here, it was a welcome reprieve from the chaos that tended to dog them at the heels far too often. Tensions of their people had only recently eased themselves and this had been meaning to be an _enjoyable_ escape. Her and Lexa had settled surprisingly easy into the quaint town, out away from the progressively climbing populations of cities, surrounded by nothing but farms and fields with scarce houses, stores, butchers, bakeries scattered amongst.

She had _not_ been intending to be sitting in a hall of townspeople she’d only recently come to know, as a stranger dressed in white robes solemnly went on about the tragedy of her wife’s demise, of though her life may be gone her soul will live on up in the heavens.

It was through every ounce of self-effort she could muster that she didn’t roll her eyes.

The eulogy seemed to be finishing up at least, thank the gods. The hall they sat all sat in was the only one the town had. It was big, but Clarke had found far larger in her lifetime. The pews all held the townspeople dressed in black with their heads down, some veiled, some wiping at their eyes, some not. A death as violent as this did not come often to the people here. It had struck them all, even if her and Lexa had only been remaining here for a few months.

It was the smell that always gave her pause. The grief was almost pungent in the air, a thick and suffocating blanket that entrapped them all, and strangely, the smell of it always reminded her so viscerally of flowers decaying.

Clarke noticed some of the mourners glance to her once the pastor was finished, and so she shifted her gaze to the marble floor and exhaled shakily, squeezing her eyes shut like she was trying to stop the flow of tears. A hand came out and rubbed over the back of her dress.

This was not how she wanted to fucking spend their weekend.

The rest went by far too slowly for Clarke’s liking. She spent most of it lingered by the smooth dark casket, laid gently up atop a long, cloth covered table while each of the townspeople came up and offered their condolences. She smiled weakly for each one and tried not do anything too drastic when they’d reach out, squeeze her arm, gave her pitiful looks and kind words that only sounded sincere half the time.

Her eyes were itchy. She hated crying. She hadn’t cried in almost a decade. Being made to for hours was plummeting her mood just as quick as when Lexa had collapsed into her arms after the bullet shot through her stomach.

That pulled at something. Someone came up to her, tried to reach out and squeeze her hand, but Clarke didn’t react, only stared at the casket. It had been a very long while since she’d seen Lexa properly hurt. There’d been real, paralysing fear that’d jolted through her as Lexa had collapsed back into her arms. They’d ended up on the gravel, Lexa bleeding out, blood as black as the sky above them dripping down her lips.

Clarke blinked, glanced down at her hands. She could feel people’s stares on her, but she ignored them, and there was something like relief that unfurled within her as she eyed her clean hands.

When she looked up again, there were less around her. Some had clearly assumed she needed space for her grieving and had left her to be. There were few of the lesser strangers lingered closer by her. Niylah, the kind-hearted owner of the apothecary, was one of them. Miller and Monty were with her too, and it was touching, if even just slightly, that even just a few months here and already Clarke found herself with bonds.

She offered them a weak smile and shook her head, and they seemed to accept it and left her to be. They murmured their condolences as they did, and it didn’t irritate her quite as much as the rest of the people had. This had gone on long enough though. Spending the day in mourning and being forced to break down into wracking sobs left her twitchy and wanting to bite someone. This was not her realm of grief, but it was what was required of her, apparently.

A woman came up to her. Clarke didn’t immediately recognise her, though she was pretty sure she was the baker’s wife that she’d seen in passing. The woman came forward, placed a gentle hand atop the casket and bowed her head, murmuring a soft prayer for a god that held no kindness for Lexa.

Clarke had to fight the urge to peel her lip back and rip the hand off. That wouldn’t be appropriate or at all acceptable, unfortunately, so she did nothing of the sort. Her hands still twitched and she deliberately moved them behind her back in order to stave off the impulse.

The mourner finally stepped back. She glanced up at her, but before she could even open her mouth Clarke was already cutting in.

“I think I just need a moment alone,” Clarke said, and the mourner soon nodded in understanding, offered a pitiful smile and stepped away. Clarke clenched her fists behind her back.

“Of course, you take all the time you need, dear.”

Clarke just shot her a watery smile back and waited until she was left alone with the coffin of her dead wife. She stood there, in the cold, candlelit hall, eyes stuck on the doors as all the mourners filed out.

The second the door shut and she was alone Clarke threw her head back with a relieved sigh. “Oh thank the fucking gods,” she breathed, and promptly gave a rough kick to the coffin in front of her. “Are you done playing your death?”

The coffin moved.

“We are free of company Lexa, and if you don’t get out of that godsforsaken coffin right now I _will_ be the one to finally put you in the ground for the last time.”

The casket lid lifted slowly. The wood creaked, but the pale hand kept pushing until it was laid flat out open and Lexa could sit up. She stretched her back and groaned, tilting her neck both ways as so it could crack and ease.

“I do not understand why you are yelling at me when _I_ am the one who has to lay in this coffin for _three_ _days_,” Lexa grumbled, shooting a glare at her. “It is not exactly a gracious space.”

“_I_ have spent the last hours sobbing and having to take on a strangers grief. You couldn’t have done something sooner?”

Lexa just stared helplessly at her. “What would you have expected me to do, Clarke? They all presume me dead, and their dead are not exactly known for rising.” She didn’t have an immediate retort for that. Clarke just frowned and Lexa smiled with her victory. “Although it might be worth mentioning your disturbing ability to fake your grief.”

Clarke ripped her veil off and threw it to the ground. “I liked this town,” she sighed, her frustration long gone defeated. “Their bread is nothing like I’ve ever had, Lexa. I’m going to miss it.”

“We will find some place better, Clarke.” Lexa just gave a tired look. “I believe it is a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things.”

Clarke scoffed, leaning back onto the table. “You’re a vampire. You do not get opinions on food.”

“I’ve seen you eat a week old carcass.”

“That was _once_ and only because you’d made us go to that cursed frozen wasteland where we were trapped up there for days.”

The memory still gave her phantom shakes. She’d never known a coldness like that before. It hadn’t made matters any better since Lexa wasn’t affected by the temperature—as her skin was almost cold as the snow anyway—and how even Clarke’s fever-like blood wasn’t enough to keep her warm, so she couldn’t even depend on Lexa for body heat.

It had not been a nice week. She’d gone hunting and all she’d managed upon was a rotting half-frozen carcass that even the bears wouldn’t touch. Her stomach had been gnawing at her though, in a hunger that had a dangerous capacity to turn feral, so she’d taken it and Lexa had rubbed her back when she threw half of it back up when she was human again.

“It was entirely your fault,” Clarke muttered, resisting the urge to grind her teeth. They were starting to feel just a little too big for her mouth and that was never a good sign.

Lexa almost looked like she wanted to lie back down into the coffin she’d been cursing just seconds ago. “Will you ever let that go?”

“Not till my dying breath.”

Lexa looked incredulously at her. “We’re immortal, Clarke.”

Clarke glared at her. “Then it’ll be a while, will it not?”

“Usually, there is some order of thanks when someone saves your life.”

Clarke moved back, watching as Lexa was preparing to stand up out the coffin. “If the bullet had hit me, then we wouldn’t _be_ in the mess. I could have healed it off and we could be in a bed right now.”

Lexa stilled. She paused, half the way out, glanced up and looked her directly into the eyes. “No. I will never let harm befall you if there is a chance I might stop it. This is nothing but a few wasted days. You hurt is not.”

Clarke softened. “I know,” she spoke, quieter now. “It is done though, I suppose.” A frown fell across her. “Though truly I am far more concerned hunters even followed us this far.”

“We must leave, now,” Lexa agreed, and in the same moment Clarke nodded and offered out a hand to help Lexa down a timid knock sounded through the hall. They would have missed it if they were anyone else, but both of their sensitive hearing meaning they froze in the same second. Lexa’s eyes widened, and for a terrifying moment they just stared at each other in panic.

The knock came again, this time followed by an equally timid voice. “Clarke? It’s been a while, are you well?”

“Shit,” Clarke hissed, and started to try to push Lexa back down. “Back in! We don’t have time!”

“_Again_?” Lexa hissed right back. Clarke shot her an apologetic look, but she ignored Lexa’s protest as she helped her back down. She didn’t look at _all_ happy and was scowling with fangs peeking out from her lips, yet Clarke ignored her, could only uselessly apologise.

“It’ll be quick, I promise. I’ll get them out fast and then we can escape whilst it’s still nightfall, okay?”

Lexa’s features eased, as something softer spread over them. Clarke put a hand at Lexa’s chest and pushed her down only for Lexa to come right back up, and press her lips against her own. It was gentle, a disarming sort of familiar, and Clarke couldn’t be blamed if her eyes fells closed and she kissed her back so easily.

Lexa pulled back slowly. “I have missed you,” she whispered low, and Clarke stared at her before realising she’d long lost the battle.

“Fine,” Clarke breathed, smiling soft. “You’re forgiven for saving my life.”

Lexa’s face of soft but affectionate amusement was something that would always make her weak, no matter how many years and decades and centuries passed. The echoed creak of the door opening had reality snapping back quick, and Lexa hurriedly laid down while Clarke jerked the coffin lid closed. They seemed to succeed just in time, as the woman that had now carefully opened the doors and slipped in, looked up to see nothing of the laws of nature that had just been mocked.

It was Niylah. Clarke relaxed a little, though even if it was relieving to find it was actually one of more genuinely kind of the townspeople, the longer they remained the greater the threat rose.

“How are you?” Niylah asked quietly as she approached, her eyes flicking out for a second to the veil Clarke thrown to the floor.

“I am tired,” Clarke answered, and that wasn’t even a lie. Of course the cause was of another matter entirely but that mattered little. “This has gone on long enough, I think. I appreciate the town’s kindness, of course, but for now I’d rather my privacy.”

Niylah stopped in front of the coffin by her. She nodded, accepting it without push. “Of course,” she murmured. Still, her gaze flicked up to hers, sincerity in them. “I would like to offer though, I know you have not lingered here long, but you have friendship here. If you would ever need to talk, I will be here.”

Clarke heard something that was suspiciously close to a growl come from the coffin. Niylah’s brow twitched, like she’d heard it too, and so Clarke stepped closer to the casket and loudly cleared her throat in the same moment she hit the coffin with her fist in warning. Clarke gave a strained smile and pondered whether it’d be of any worth to strangle a creature that doesn’t even breathe.

“Really, Niylah, I appreciate your offerings, but for now I’d much rather some peace.”

Niylah looked slightly taken back from the brusque tone, but after a moment of recovery she nodded slowly and stepped back. “Of course, if you’d wish it I can inform everyone—”

“Wait.”

Clarke stiffened. Niylah blinked at being so abruptly cut off, yet Clarke’s attention was now entirely focused on the door. She strained her hearing, because she had _heard_ something, she knew she had. It took a moment, where Niylah was looking at her increasingly concerned, but her heart sped up faster in her chest at realising it wasn’t what she’d heard that was the cause of alarm—it was the lack of anything else.

It was the _silence_.

None of the barely audible chatting of the townspeople gathered outside. None of the conversations and the background noises of the town she had long learnt to tune out as a lesser concern. Now it was nothing but dead silence.

“Lexa, something’s wrong,” Clarke whispered, eyes scanning the hall. The hairs prickled up her neck and there was a rousing of the beast within her. She glanced at Niylah to tell her to leave, but Niylah was looking at her with such aching sympathy now. Clarke ground her teeth. “Lexa, I don’t care we’re not alone I _need_ you—”

Voices. Clarke’s eyes snapped back to the door because she _knew_ those ones. It wasn’t difficult to make out the vengeful mutters of _the demon is in here_ and various orders getting hissed out to surround the building, hold the door, ready the weapons.

“Lexa!” Clarke snapped, hitting the side of the coffin with her fist hard enough it shook.

Niylah looked at her with shock and pity. “Clarke, she’s… she’s not coming back.”

Clarke was only seconds away from just _dragging_ Lexa out the coffin her fucking self when finally, her wife listened, and the coffin burst open. Niylah’s eyes bulged but Clarke’s hand jerked out and smothered Niylah’s mouth so she wouldn’t scream.

“Not a sound,” Clarke hissed, baring her teeth. “We are about to be overrun.”

Niylah paled till she was practically white. This was not an ideal situation. Clarke shot a helpless look to Lexa, who in a truly impressive amount of grace had already slipped out the coffin and was standing by her side.

“How many do you hear?”

“It is not an army,” Lexa answered, after taking a moment to pause. The door jolted with an ominous bang of wood and their eyes snapped to each others, then to the human in front of them, who very much looked she was on the verge of passing out.

Lexa’s eyes flicked to Niylah, hardening, but Clarke shook her head and though Lexa might have sighed through her nose with gritted teeth, she nodded her acceptance of the decision.

Clarke finally took her hand away from Niylah’s mouth and was pleased when she didn’t immediately scream. The door jumped forward again, this time with warning shouts behind it, and Clarke snatched Niylah’s arm and roughly pulled her so they were crouched down behind a stone pillar off to the side.

“I told you we should not have held a funeral,” Lexa grumbled, sounding only slightly put off even as the doors were thrown open with an echoing violent _bang_ throughout the hall. Niylah jumped, but Clarke just shot an exasperated glare at Lexa, feeling quite annoyed herself.

“You got shot in _public_, Lexa. When they came to check your body they found no pulse. This is your fault and yours alone.”

Furious shouts shot out as the hunters stormed their way in. ”Find the demons!” a deep voice spat out, and both her and Lexa looked to each other as they both seemed to realise at the same time.

Clarke groaned quietly and hit the back of her head against the stone pillar. “_Emerson_ followed us out here?”

Niylah, who was squashed between them, was starting too look far less scared and far more confused at their very casual tone when surely they were about to die.

Lexa clenched her teeth, sighing sharply through her nose. “I told you this wasn’t my fault. Emerson is out for _your_ blood, not mine.”

“He very much wants you dead, Lexa.”

Lexa shot her glare. The shouting of the hunters grew louder and now Niylah was expectantly glancing between them for _something_. “He does,” Lexa allowed, though her glare didn’t waver any less. “But _I _was not the one to slaughter his ancestors.”

Clarke ground her teeth, but she offered no retort.

“They’re getting closer!” Niylah bit out, now frantically glancing between them. Emerson snarled out an order for them to reveal themselves again, the sound of the coffin being kicked and ripped apart ringing through after, chairs and windows being smashed being a horrible backdrop of sound.

“And you know as well as I, Clarke,” Lexa continued, completely ignoring Niylah’s increasing panic. “That if Emerson is here it can only be because there must be rumours of a beast prowling these moors.”

Clarke groaned. “It was _once_, Lexa. One night! I left the boundaries of the woods _once_.”

“And it has clearly been enough,” Lexa muttered, sounding quite irritated now. Clarke scoffed and Niylah seemed to move far past panic and into plain frustrated annoyance.

“If you two are _quite_ done arguing, there are men here with _guns_ and _weapons_ and they seem very intent of killing us all!”

They both stared at her as Niylah looked furiously between them.

“There is no need to be so rude. I was having a discussion with my wife,” Lexa reprimanded, still holding a calmness that only seemed to worsen matters, and Niylah just stared at her like she’d entirely lost her mind.

Clarke sighed deeply, glancing around the pillar before beginning the process of removing her gloves. “A discussion would imply you would listen to my side. Which you very much are not.”

“I _have_ listened, Clarke. You just do not accept disagreement as an outcome.”

“Soldiers!” Niylah hissed. “Guns! Danger! _Now_!”

With her gloves thrown forgotten to side, Clarke calmly leant forward and took off her shoes. Removing the heels immediately brought relief. She quite missed her usual boots, the sort that would do well in a battle ground, but that wasn’t appropriate of her anymore, apparently.

The aggressive yells and shouts got closer. Emerson sounded only seconds from going rabid.

“It was not of my _choice_, Lexa. These woods are cramped and small and I am bound to my nature as are you.”

Lexa frowned at that. Niylah was almost red in face from being so completely ignored. Luckily for her sake, they had indeed waited long enough. Clarke had long grown accustomed to what she was and it wasn’t long till she felt the fire that lit itself in her blood. It spread through her, a hungry, ancient force that set an ache in her gums as her teeth grew and sharpened. Her nails, both on her hands and feet turned black and long, shifting into claws.

When she looked to Niylah again, the woman had gone utterly mute and was staring wide-eyed at her, her face quickly flashing red to almost deathly pale. She gaped helplessly at her, and right as Clarke felt a strip of fur tickle up her neck Lexa suddenly had her arm reaching across.

She grabbed Clarke’s hand and brought it to her lips, kissing the back of it softly.

“If you are overwhelmed, you will call for me.”

Clarke smiled, ignoring how it must have faired quite a terrifying sight for Niylah but only seemed to make Lexa soften more. “I expect the same of you.”

Lexa smiled knowingly at her like it was some private joke between them and it made her heart beat slow and warm in her chest.

“Remain here,” Lexa ordered quietly to Niylah, finally releasing Clarke’s hand and leaning back. Niylah’s eyes somehow grew even wider as the green of Lexa’s iris melted into black, spreading out from her pupils like oil until even the whites of her eyes was gone. “We shall let no harm befall you, but that relies on what you choose to do.”

“We have faced far worse odds and succeeded,” Clarke murmured to her, and Niylah gasped at seeing the blue of her iris had now given way to a muddled yellow.

They both stood up slow. Lexa chanced a check around the pillar. Clarke let herself admire her a moment, the way every muscle in her seemed to be coiled tight in preparation and that when she went still, she went _still_. Her heart didn’t beat and her lungs didn’t rise and so easily could she have been mistaken as some goddess carved from marble.

Lexa glanced back to her, clearly looking prepared to rely something until she noticed Clarke’s blatant staring.

“My love, this is not the time,” Lexa said, though she sounded more amused than anything.

Clarke’s grin spread wider and she shrugged. “You cannot blame me for my nature.”

Lexa sighed fondly, shaking her head. “Incorrigible,” she muttered under her breath, and shooting one last glance leapt out from the pillar so fast she was nothing but a blur. There was an immediate rise of panicked yelling and shouting and a strange calm swept over her, as she readied herself, her head tilting when she caught the rush of approaching steps.

Clarke ripped a clean slice with her nails along her dress, tearing the fabric so it only went up to her knees and she could actually _move_. Niylah made some strangled sound that Clarke politely ignored. She waited until the peek of a revolver appeared at the pillar, and in a heartbeat Clarke shot out and had the hunter shoved into the stone with her hands wrapped his throat.

She snarled at him and it rumbled _deep_. He paled, desperately scrambling at his throat, but Clarke caught the sharp _click_ of a chamber clicking and hissed through her teeth. She immediately released him and wrenched him forward like a shield and not seconds later gunshots snapped the air and slammed into the hunter’s body.

Clarke stumbled back with the force it, feeling the hunter in her arms only last struggling a few more seconds before he went limp in her grip. His fellows ahead cursed and scrambled back to reload their chambers, almost tripping over a turned over pew in their haste backwards.

She let the corpse of the hunter drop carelessly to the floor. Snarling, her gaze snapped upwards to the pillar next to her and to how it led up to the support above. Support that she could theoretically leap between. By the time the hunters had jumped out from their cover again, guns raised and ready, they blinked at finding Clarke wasn’t there anymore.

She was already climbing up the pillar. The concrete was solid, but her strength honed after so many years meant she could scratch and claw a divot into the stone, enough to get a grip and scramble her way up. When her hands finally found the wooden beams stretched across for the support, they weren’t even hands anymore. The growl rumbling out of her chest deepened and roughened in response to the new shape her ribcage was taking. At this point, the process of shifting barely even hurt, only became the same uncomfortable burn as fur spread through skin and she snapped her new jaws.

It was over in barely less than a minute.

The hunters had approached from below, glancing around and shouting for her, and the moment that one of them finally thought to glance up she’d already been waiting. His eyes blew wide and he had a heartbeat to yell out a warning before she pounced down towards him. He was dead before he even hit the ground.

“WEREWOLF!” the hunter nearest bellowed, hastily backing up and seeming to abandon his gun entirely, instead reached for the crossbow strapped to his back. Clarke knew it was because those arrows would be silver and would pierce through her like butter. Because with silver, it wasn’t a matter of _where_ you got shot, it was matter of _if_ you got shot.

Her lip curled back from muzzle, but she couldn’t even ready her hind legs to launch for him when a knife was being thrown through the air and stabbed through the hunter’s arm. He went down with a curse, clutching desperately at his hand and Clarke took the opportunity for it was.

Lexa had always been a perfect shot.

The fight was over quick. With the amount of battle and even full on wars her and Lexa had been through this felt like nothing in between. Once, they’d even gone to war with a vampire who’d been around for more than an entire millennium. Now _that_ was a battle—and that was the sort of thing that ruined your sense of danger. Nothing can really scare you after that.

Clarke bit down into a hunter’s neck, waited till they had finally gone limp before relaxing her jaw and looking around for anyone else. But it was over. Her ears swivelled, searching out for any that might have ran or hidden away, but the only breathing and hearts she could hear was Niylah’s from afar, and Emerson, who was crawling on the floor now with Lexa slowly stalking towards him.

Lexa glanced up at seeing her approach. Like reflex Clarke went over to her and nosed into her stomach, under her arms, her hands, searching out for if any part of her was injured. Lexa huffed an amused breath but let her have her worries and stood still for her. Even if she was rolling her eyes the moment stepped away.

“I’m fine,” Lexa said, a little pointedly. Clarke only pulled away once she’d deduced the only blood on Lexa was someone else’s and none of her own. Lexa smiled in exasperation for it all, but like a part of her still couldn’t resist her hand came out and stroked behind her ears. “So much for being inconspicuous.”

Clarke nipped her fingers for that. Lexa was took quick, as always, managed to snatch her hand back before the flash of teeth.

“Monsters,” Emerson spat from the floor, and both of them glanced to him. He was clutching at his stomach, eyes blazing with his teeth bared, looking so _furious_ Clarke was sure that the only thing that would stop him from wiping every one of their kind from the face of the earth would be death. “You think you’ve won? You will pay once you die—and you fucking will—and I’ll be waiting for you, oh I’ll be _goddamn_ _waiting_ for when we meet in hell.”

Lexa sighed and pulled her hand away from Clarke. “You’re already there, Emerson.”

It only seemed to infuriate him more. Lexa came towards them, to finish this, but the moment she got close enough to reach out Emerson was lunging for something in his coat. Panic seized in her chest as Lexa lurched back with a snarl, yet Clarke realised quick it wasn’t in fatal pain.

Emerson now branded a silver cross in his hands. Lexa backed away, raising her hands like that could somehow stop it. The cross didn’t affect Clarke though. Clarke lunged for him but stopped just in front of her face, her whole heaving body now hovering over him like death waiting and _snarled_ right into his eyes.

He recoiled back and Clarke used it snatch the cross with her teeth and throw it to the side. The silver stung her teeth and the accident graze of her tongue against the metal immediately burnt the flesh but she ignored it entirely. Emerson was pinned beneath now, and with nothing left to protect him his breathing quickened and sped.

Clarke glanced behind her, to Lexa. With the cross gone she’d already started to approach again.

There had been many gods that had come and gone, but there was only one that harboured a true hate for Lexa’s kind.

Lexa touched her shoulder, to urge her back. Clarke hesitated, but slowly she listened and moved back, the massive form of her beast easing backwards in a way that looked nothing how a monster should act. Not a drip of fear in her, Lexa crouched down so she was right next to the Emerson on the floor.

“How many of our people have you killed, Emerson?” Lexa asked. Her tone wasn’t anything like it should be, but calm and almost casual. “Surely, you know we can’t let you leave here. While _you_ might not care to lose people, we do. We live so long, Emerson, that for every life you took you might as well have taken a hundred others.”

Emerson didn’t dignify her with anything. He glared up at her, spat at her feet. “Get it over with, demonspawn. You think I’m the last? You think killing me will stop us?”

“No,” Lexa said quietly. “I believe there will always be those like you. You will teach your children to hunt us, and we will teach ours how to survive, no matter how. Maybe one day, just enough might go right that times change, but, well,” and Lexa smiled here, the sort of smile you’d never want to see. “I’ve lived long enough that I don’t quite have that hope and so I will stop you the way I know how. Maybe someone someday, might have some epiphany that’ll save us all, but for now, it is just you and I.”

Emerson blinked at her, confusion dulling his fury.

Lexa flipped the knife in her hands. She must have gotten it off one of the hunters. “But if there is one thing I must thank you for, it is that you will always give our people something to unite against. You must have no idea just how useful you have been in bringing Clarke and I’s own together, but you should know. We really couldn’t have done it without your help.”

Emerson’s eyes flashed. “I would fucking _never_ help your kind.”

Lexa smiled. “But you did. And for that, I will not make you suffer.”

And for all her faults, Lexa was as good as her word.

By the time Lexa had stood again Clarke was already in the process of shifting back. It was a little too early, and some of her body protested against it in the reluctant grind of bones, but Clarke grit her teeth and forced it to be done with. She gasped once it was over, standing a bare few seconds before her knees gave out.

A hand caught her arm before she could hit the floor. Lexa was gentle as she pulled her up, eyeing her with concern. “You should have waited,” she said sternly, and Clarke only waved her off.

“We don’t have the time.”

Lexa still didn’t look pleased with it but she let her be.

Clarke rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck. The pop was almost unnaturally loud, as the last of the bone and muscle shifted back into what it was meant to be. Lexa lingered by her, yet her concern was falling fast into something else as she took in the fact that Clarke was very much naked now.

In any other moment, this would not be something that Clarke minded. But they were in a hall surrounded by corpses that far too easily looked something supernatural had been involved and if they didn’t do something soon then a _lot_ more was about go wrong than it already had. Lexa must have come to the same conclusion, because as much she seemed to struggle to tear her eyes up she did.

“I will… find you something to wear.” Lexa cleared her throat and purposely looked away. “Yes. Some clothes. I will… be back.”

Clarke raised a brow, failing to bite back her grin as Lexa turned around and went searching. Even from here she could see the tips of her ears burning and she was almost tempted to laugh.

Lexa did not manage to find clothes. She did find a cloth though, one that was long enough Clarke could pull the material over her shoulders like a cape and cover up most of her. “We should burn the place down,” Clarke muttered as she adjusted the cloth in her hands. At least Lexa could meet her eyes now.

Lexa nodded. “That would be best I think.”

Clarke grimaced. “The town won’t be happy about it.”

“I believe them being alive is something to be quite happy about.”

Clarke bumped into Lexa’s shoulder as they walked back to where Niylah had hidden. “Not amusing, love.”

“It was not meant to be.”

Clarke rolled her eyes to herself but she caught Lexa smiling in the corner of her eyes and this time, when she bumped into her again, it was with her arm coming out beneath the cloth and grabbing Lexa’s collar to pull her to her lips.

Surprisingly enough, they found Niylah exactly where she’d been and without injury. Niylah burst to her feet at seeing them alive and well, relief making her shoulders slack at knowing it was _over_, and really she probably would have burst forward and hugged the both of them except then she took in Clarke’s particular state of undress and hastily spun around with a yelp.

“It’s fine, Niylah,” Clarke offered, trying to bring back some kindness after all that had gone down.

“It’s not,” Lexa muttered under her breath from beside her and Clarke elbowed her ribs.

Clarke glared at her. “You’re a few hundred shy of thousand years old, Lexa, grow up.”

Lexa frowned but begrudgingly kept quiet.

“You need to face me, Niylah.”

Niylah cursed quietly to herself, but slowly, after forcing a steadying breath she did just that. For a second she made the mistake of glancing to Lexa’s expression, which was no doubt a very, _very_ dark warning, and while her face was more than a little ashen she clenched her jaw and straightened her back.

She met Clarke’s eyes. “You’re going to make me swear to not say anything, aren’t you?”

Clarke blinked. She glanced to Lexa, but at finding Lexa still glaring a hole into Niylah’s head, realised she was quite on her own for this. “Yes,” Clarke said, looking back to her. She sighed and ran a hand through her loose hair. “What happened today, no one can ever know it. It wouldn’t just endanger us, but everyone we love, and everyone we know.”

Niylah nodded. “I understand.”

“Will you reveal us?” Lexa asked. It bordered on an accusation and Clarke was simply way too old for this.

Niylah had the courage to glare slightly at Lexa for that, but it wasn’t for long. Picking fights with centuries old vampires was something you did with ample _preparation_. She looked between them. Clarke had been mildly confident that Niylah wouldn’t say anything—she doubted there was a single vengeful bone in her—but the longer Niylah remained silent, the more the hairs prickled up her neck.

Her fear was for nothing, of course.

“I meant what I said before,” Niylah finally spoke. She smiled at Clarke. “I’m your friend. You have nothing to fear from me. I will keep your secrets safe.”

“Thank you,” Clarke said, and she really meant it.

Lexa let them have a whole second before interrupting. “You might want to leave now, Niylah, as we will have to burn this place down in case of evidence. You wouldn’t want to be caught inside.”

Clarke sighed at the barely veiled threat, but Niylah seemed to take it seriously enough to nod hurriedly and scurry past them. She lingered for just a second as she glanced back, and Clarke offered one last thankful smile, that Niylah returned, before she seemed to make the mistake of glancing at Lexa again and hastily spun around.

“I do not like her,” Lexa said the moment the hall was empty and they were alone again.

“That does not make what you did necessary. She’s a good person, Lexa.”

Lexa’s jaw tightened. “Perhaps,” she conceded, and didn’t offer anything more.

All things considered it was probably the best Clarke was going to get.

When they stepped out it was dark and cloudless. Clarke had been the one to venture first, pressing her ear to the door to hear if anyone was waiting on them, and she’d peeked her head out to see no one like she’d expected. The hunters had probably herded the townsfolk back to their own homes so they could be out the way. Most likely by the time they would gather the courage to creep back out they’d find nothing but bones and ashes.

Clarke eyed the hall, how the night was near pitch black around them. “It’ll be bright when it goes.”

Lexa pressed a soft kiss to the side of Clarke’s head. “Then we will have to be quick.” She glanced down at her. “Are you cold?”

“Fur would be warmer,” Clarke mused.

Lexa shook her head. “We should take horses out. It will be quicker.”

“Stop by the house, then?”

“I’ll do the hall, you get clothes and our transport.”

Clarke spent a moment staring up at the stars. The moon wasn’t full yet, but it would be in only a few days time. “We have to go home, don’t we?”

It surprised her how sad how voice came out. For all the nights she’d spent complaining here, of the lack of things to do when for so long her and Lexa had been stretched thin trying to keep wars from breaking out, suddenly having _nothing_ to fret over had been disconcerting and downright frighting at points. They’d almost turned back for home the first week on their travels about seven separate times, until finally they managed to cautiously settle into the routine.

She would miss it, Clarke realised. As much she complained about it, she also knew that the thought of going back home where everyone was barely restraining the urge to go for each other’s throats didn’t sound appealing.

But it was who they were, and who they always would be. Some things you can’t fight. So deeply written into your blood, trying to fight against it was a pointless endeavour that’d earn you nothing but an early grave.

“We do,” Lexa said quietly. Clarke glanced to her, and Lexa gave her a soft smile, bringing up her hand and brushing her thumb over Clarke’s lip. “But maybe we could stop a place or two along the way.”

Clarke’s grin spread on slow, and when she leant forward to kiss her Lexa was already meeting her halfway.

Home could wait for a little while.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked that and thanks for taking the time of day to read. happy halloween lads!


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